


Last First Kiss

by thyenemycloser



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, American AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Confident Louis Tomlinson, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Feminine Harry Styles, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mention of Ziam, Mutual Pining, Nervous Harry, Niall Horan is famous, Top Louis Tomlinson, Virgin Harry, harry wears lipstick, zarry friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29668050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thyenemycloser/pseuds/thyenemycloser
Summary: Harry’s hands were shaking.“Is it locked?” A sound from behind nearly sent Harry’s soul flying into outer space. He turned around quickly, finding a slightly shorter boy standing there, a smirk on the corner of his lips, “Sorry, did I scare you?”“No, I’m just nervous, sorry,” Harry admitted honestly, taking a shaky breath. The boy was pretty. He glanced at the door again, trying to pull it open, “I think it is.”The boy hummed, carefully stepping forward beside Harry, “Is there someone inside?”Harry didn’t reply, only shuffling a little to the side, eyeing the boy with a pounding heart.“Oh, you had to push,” the boy said, turning to Harry with a wide, amused grin, holding the door wide open.Immediately, Harry’s face flushed red.“I-” Harry stammered, unsure what to say, when the boy laughed again, the sound soft and silky and soothing.“It’s okay. Happens to the best of us, come on,” he said, his smile so wide and happy and contagious that Harry couldn’t resist the small, shy smile tugging at his own lips.Or, where Harry goes in to take his SATs expecting a disaster, but instead meets someone he'll never forget.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	Last First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at fanfiction... well, sorta. 
> 
> Not sure what to say... 
> 
> ok bye.
> 
> :)

He wasn’t nervous, Harry contended, repeatedly pacing the length of his dreadfully, uncomfortably, and annoyingly small room, where his bed and single overstuffed bookshelf took up most of the space. 

The pictures littered haphazardly throughout his walls watched him, posters of Niall Horan from when he was in love with him in middle school staring at him past a beaming, mockingly radiant grin. 

Harry wasn’t nervous, he promised, and not because Harry wasn’t the type to be nervous. Not for things like this, at least. _Especially_ not for something as silly and insignificant as his final SAT test. Definitely, he was positively not nervous. Obviously. 

Against his will, he reached for his phone sitting on his bed, still plugged in despite having full battery, playing soft music he could barely hear (because Harry never played music loudly, far too scared his neighbor next door could hear his obscenely horrible taste). He unlocked his phone through fidgety, near trembling fingers, and opened to the top contact.

_I’m nervous,_ he sent, immediately throwing his phone away from himself to resume pacing around his room, likely drilling a path into his brand new carpet, pausing way too many times in front of the full-body mirror to inspect his outfit. He looked pretty, he repeated over and over, desperately trying to convince himself. His new pair of boots were shiny and clean, his jeans freshly ironed, and his shirt - the cute button-up he’d ordered online - fit nicely. He looked pretty, he nodded, over and over, definitely. 

A loud ping coming from his phone darted his eyes to his bed, where he could see it light up from within the pile of pillows he’d thrown it into. 

_Why?_

Harry rolled his eyes, collapsing face down onto the bed and hugging the soft frog pillow he’d bought himself at an amusement park a few years ago. He could just picture his best friend, Zayn, sitting on his couch and scoffing at Harry, who was always way too nervous for the dumbest reasons. 

_I feel like I’m overdressed._

There was a long pause, where Harry waited anxiously, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Alewife” by Clairo played softly through his busted, water-destroyed speaker, the soft voice a sharp contrast to his violently bouncing leg.

_What shoes are you wearing?_

The much-awaited reply had Harry pausing immediately, confusion ransacking his brain before he replied.

_Boots._

Zayn replied almost immediately, as if he had already anticipated Harry’s response.

_Wear your slides instead._

Harry didn’t hesitate to stand up and saunter over to his pile of shoes, shoving aside his extensive collection of converse until he found the ugly, permanently creased sandals. But he complied with the demand, quickly taking off the stiff boots, his soft yellow socks with ducks on them fully showcased. Harry grinned, contently wiggling his toes before he stopped, dread growing in his gut again when he checked the time. _6:20._ His exam wasn’t until eight. Though it didn’t stop him from texting Zayn, _What time are you picking me up? Let’s get breakfast._

Another long pause followed before Zayn responded.

_Ten minutes._

Harry sighed, standing up again to replug his phone into the charger, afraid it would die before he even had the chance to leave (as it did way too often). Reaching for his bag hanging on the hook next to his door, he carried it over to his tiny, messy desk and dumped everything within it on top of it. 

Two pencils, wallet, school ID, admissions paper, keys, and an envelope with the words ‘ _Niall Horan’_ written in careful calligraphy (because Harry always carried it with him on the off chance he would one day bump into him in the streets, however unlikely). He had everything, he confirmed, carefully stuffing it all back inside. It was already his fifth time repeating the process, dreadfully feeling like he was forgetting something, but Harry just couldn’t remember _what_ it was. Maybe it was his brain he was forgetting. Yeah, that was probably it. 

Harry was exhausted, though he wasn’t inclined to admit it. He had spent all night stressing over his laptop, taking online practice tests until his brain fried, which was when he looked at the time and realized it was already past one in the morning, and he needed to wake up in four hours. “Get at least eight hours of sleep the night before,” the multiple email reminders he’d received had said, though it was a shocker to no one that Harry did no such thing. Instead, he spent yet another hour stressing over how he _couldn’t_ sleep until eventually, the exhaustion washed over him.

His phone pinged again, confusing Harry, who was definitely sure ten minutes hadn’t passed yet. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to swipe open the notification before his phone started vibrating, his mom’s contact picture assaulting his screen and stopping his music.

“Hello?” he quickly swiped to answer, shocked his mom was awake so early. 

“Are you at your test already?” his mom’s drowsy, half-asleep tone instantly indicated that she had definitely just woken up.

Harry rolled his eyes, “No, I’m waiting for Zayn to pick me up."

“Oh,” Anne said, followed by a long pause and a weird groan (or yawn, as Anne put it. It was definitely more of a tortured groan in Harry’s opinion), “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah,” Harry hummed, looking at the time again and gathering his stuff by the entrance of his bedroom door, reluctant to open it.

“What time will it be over?”

Harry shrugged, momentarily forgetting that his mom couldn’t see the motion, “I’m not sure. It’s probably going to take a while. I’ll just text you when it’s over.”

“Alright,” Anne groaned - yawned - again, “Have you eaten already?”

Harry pressed his lips together, “Yes, mom,” he lied, not wanting to explain, “I had waffles.”

“That’s not a healthy breakfast.” Harry could practically picture Anne frowning with that familiar disapproving look in her eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Harry sighed, feeling his phone vibrate against his ear, indicating he’d gotten a text message. “I gotta go, Zayn’s here. Bye mom, love you.”

He didn’t let her respond before Harry hung up, an odd feeling at the back of his throat. He wanted to cry, and he didn’t even know why.

_I’m here._

Zayn’s texts were always short and curt, overly simplified, and to the point. He was lazy that way, using Siri to send his texts for him nine out of ten times. Though Harry always found that fascinating about him, how _different_ he was. Ever since they were two little awkward kids in the playground, they’ve been inseparable. Like brothers. Harry always wanted a brother.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his pant legs, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and checked himself in the mirror one final time. He looked pretty, he assessed, fixing his bouncy curls and making sure the light tint of lipstick hadn’t smudged. It was too early to be so nervous. 

Swinging open the door, Harry had barely walked out of his room before a drowsy voice came from the open bedroom door beside him.

“Where are you going?” his dad, Des, asked from his completely dark room, clearly awoken by the opening door. 

“SAT test, remember?” Harry whispered back, tiptoeing to the door frame, barely able to see the figure hidden under a pile of blankets, “You didn’t go to work today?”

“I had a headache,” came the reply, and Harry hummed, far too used to the answer. “Are you leaving already?”

Harry nodded, checking his phone to make sure Zayn wasn’t rushing him yet, “Zayn came to pick me up, so I should get going.”

“Alright, have fun,” Des muttered, barely awake to know what he was saying. Harry scoffed, walking away with a shake of his head, fighting down the smirk tugging at his lips. Harry already knew he was going to get a text in a few hours asking where he was. Harry doesn’t know why the man even bothered asking if he’s just going to forget.

Ignoring the whole interaction, Harry practically flew down the stairs, nearly slamming into his neighbor downstairs when he rounded the corner of his apartment. He could see Zayn’s car, an ugly dark green Honda Civic his aunt had given him, waiting in the parking lot. 

He ripped the door open without hesitation, “Hi!”

“Jesus Christ!” Zayn immediately cringed, startling awake from his daze and covering his chest, looking over to grinning Harry with wide eyes. 

“No, not him,” Harry giggled, bouncing in the passenger seat and buckling himself in. 

“I hate how happy you are in the mornings,” Zayn grumbled, turning the key a few times until it turned on, radio music playing softly. 

“Happy? No,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Caffeinated? Yes.”

“Annoying? Also.” Zayn grunted, swiping his dark black hair away from his face. Harry was sure he had the prettiest best friend in the world. Even as sloppy as he was, wearing a baggy hoodie and baggy sweatpants, his hair messy and glasses hanging off his nose, he was pretty. Harry always wished he was pretty like him. “McDonald’s drive-thru?” 

Harry nodded, reaching forward to change the radio station until something passable came on that wasn’t ear ringing.

“Do you have everything? Water, ID, pencils, a will to live?” Zayn asked, driving lazily with one hand on the steering wheel and the other in his lap. 

“Oh my God! I forgot the water!” Harry gasped, smacking his forehead, turning to Zayn with wide eyes, “Can we go back?”

“Fuck no,” Zayn scoffed, “I’m already on the freeway.” 

“Fine, can we stop by at the store and buy one then?” Harry pouted, “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Better than your ID,” he paused, eyes flickering to Harry who was still distraught, “You _did_ bring your ID right?”

Harry paused, uncertainty washing over him. Quickly, he scrambled to swing his bag around and dig in until he fished it out, irrationally relieved when his own goofy smile flashed up at him, “I do!”

Zayn snorted, “It’d be such a _you_ thing to forget.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Harry replied defensively, securely shoving his ID back into his wallet and making sure he zipped his bag shut all the way. “It’d be horrible. I would cry,” he paused, thoughtfully adding, “Forever.”

“Sure,” Zayn snickered, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes flying over to Harry again, “Why do you look so cute, anyway? It’s just an SAT test, you know.”

Harry’s teeth tittered, the nerves possessing his body again at the reminder, “If I showed up in lazy clothes, I’d probably just fall asleep during the reading section,” he mumbled, toying with his chipping nail polish. 

“Oh, well, you look cute,” Zayn said, an evil smirk toying at his lips, “Maybe someone will fall in love with you at first sight.”

“Oh, please,” Harry scoffed, immediately blanching at the statement.

“For real!” Zayn insisted, perking up at the topic, “Remember that boy at the mall? The one that kept staring at you?”

“He was staring at _you_ ,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“No, he wasn’t! He was totally staring at you, I saw him check out your ass when you bent over to look at those ugly socks on the bottom row.”

Harry gasped, scandalized, “No he didn’t!”

“I don’t blame him,” Zayn sighed wistfully, “You do have a pretty little butt.” 

“Zayn!” Harry screamed, covering his ears with his hand, “Gross! Don’t say that!” 

“What! It’s true,” Zayn said, puffing out his chest in pride, “You have a nice, thick ass.”

“Oh my God,” Harry tried hiding behind his hands, his face flaming red. “Stop, please, I’m begging you.”

“A nice, round piece of bitty. You need three hands just to hold it, maybe fo-”

“STOP!” Harry cried, holding back his laughs, “That is so gross, if I had an ass that big I wouldn’t be able to sit down.”

“I don’t know, you’re getting there,” Zayn said, playing coy and looking down at Harry as if he could really see it.

“Eyes on the road, pervert,” Harry grinned, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “My ass is not _that_ big.”

“Whatever you say,” Zayn hummed, clearly unrelenting. 

Harry rolled his eyes again.

... 

“What time is it?”

Harry was admittedly nervous. Extremely nervous. Anxiously so. 

“Relax, it’s barely seven-thirty. We’re two minutes away from the school,” Zayn replied calmly, “We’ll get there in time, so just finish your drink.”

“I feel like I should be, like, reviewing something,” Harry chewed on his nail again, knowing it was likely to break soon but also not caring, “Right?”

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Review what? You’ve been studying all week, you’ll be fine.”

“But-” Harry never finished his sentence, the words getting stuck in his throat when he saw Zayn pull into the unfamiliar school, “I’m nervous. I don’t want to go in alone. Why couldn’t you have taken the test with me?”

“You know I would,” Zayn sighed, looking at Harry with a face full of apologies, “But I have practice today, you know I can’t miss it, I’m the captain.”

Harry pouted, refusing to cry out of pure distress, “But it’s Saturday. Why do you even have practice on Saturdays?”

“Why do you have an SAT on Saturday?” Zayn countered.

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, taking one last, long sip from his chocolate milk before he took a deep breath and faced Zayn, full of confidence, “I’m going to go in there, ace that test, and do great.”

“That’s right, babe,” Zayn grinned, giving him a thumbs-up, “You’re going to do so good! I’ll treat you to Cheesecake Factory afterward, yeah?”

Harry froze, eyes growing wide, “Really? You promise?”

“Yeah, of course!” He laughed, glad that the promise seemed to evaporate a tiny fraction of his nerves, “Promise. Now get out of my car and go ace that test! I have to go.”

“Oh, right,” Harry’s smile was quick to fade, glancing at the door handle with pure dread.

“Text me if anything happens, alright?” Zayn said, trying to hide his concern, “Also text me when you’re done, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied dazedly, opening the door and unbuckling himself. He cast one final, wistful look at Zayn before he eventually stepped out, clutching his bag and closing the door. He could feel Zayn watching him walk up to the front door of the unfamiliar high school, making Harry feel like it was his first day at kindergarten and Zayn was his mom watching him walk off. He snickered at that image. 

A large poster on the wall indicated Harry where to do, arrows directing his way. It was incredibly helpful, but the long walk down empty hallways made the pounding in his heart nearly ten-fold, until he was sure everyone within a ten-mile radius could hear it. He paused in front of another door, reaching out and pulling it open, only to freeze when it made no indication of moving. Harry’s hands were shaking. 

“Is it locked?” A sound from behind nearly sent Harry’s soul flying into outer space. His hand even flew to his mouth, accidentally slapping his lips in freight. It was humiliating. Harry knew he was totally overreacting. He turned around quickly, finding a slightly shorter boy with a beige sweatshirt and light jeans standing there, a smirk on the corner of his lips, “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“I’m just nervous, sorry,” Harry admitted honestly, taking a shaky breath. The boy was pretty. He glanced at the door again, futilely trying to pull it open, “I think it is.”

The boy hummed, carefully stepping forward beside Harry, “Is there someone inside?”

Harry didn’t reply, only shuffling a little to the side, finding that the boy was a few centimeters shorter than him. He was pretty, with short, messy dark brown hair and a beanie thrown over it. His cheekbones were defined, his eyes proud and confident and blue, full of feminine masculinity that had Harry’s heart pounding again. 

“Oh, you had to push,” the boy said, turning to Harry with a wide, amused grin, holding the door wide open.

Immediately, Harry’s face flushed red. It was humiliating. Harry stared in horror, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. 

“I-” Harry stammered, unsure what to say to dispel his embarrassment, when the boy laughed again, the sound soft and silky and soothing.

“It’s okay. Happens to the best of us, come on,” he said, his smile so wide and happy and contagious that Harry couldn’t resist the small, shy smile tugging at his own lips. 

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, his fingers turning white from how hard he was clutching his bag. He was _so_ nervous. 

A brief silence fell over both of them as the boy held the door open for Harry, who uncertainly waited for him so they could keep walking together. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, making Harry’s heart and breath stutter. God, he was pathetic. 

“Harry,” he replied softly, his eyes fluttering up to the boy.

“Short for Harold?” 

“Nope, just Harry,” he giggled, rolling his eyes and feeling his face still just as flushed, “You?”

“Louis,” he said, straight teeth in a perfect smile, and Harry found that Louis was already staring at him.

“Short for Louisthee?”

“Nope,” Louis laughed, “Just Louis, the 'thee' is silent.”

“Oh,” Harry wanted to smack himself for not knowing how to make small talk or keep the joke going. Another silence settled as he desperately tried to come up with something to say - anything - so that he could hear that calming voice again. Harry was fascinated by it. “Are you here for the SAT?”

It’s a miracle he didn’t slam his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question.

Louis glanced at him with amusement, eyes curved playfully, “Yeah, I am, are you?”

Harry smiled, “Me too.”

“Is that why you’re so nervous?”

“It’s hard not to be,” Harry sighed, fingers finally letting go of his bag, allowing the blood to rush back into them, “I’m scared I’m going to do bad.”

“Impossible,” Louis grinned, though the look in his eyes was soft and gentle, as was his tone. Harry wondered if that’s how he was with everyone. Probably. “If anything, _I_ should be the nervous one,” he hummed, “I forgot about this whole thing until Thursday night.”

Harry gasped, head swinging to look at Louis in shock, “You’re kidding!”

“Not even a little,” he sighed, “I totally freaked out, but it’s all okay, I can just retake it again in winter if I need to.”

“That’s true.” Harry nodded, somehow calmed by that statement, “I wish I had that option.”

Louis’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “You can’t retake it?”

“My free waiver allows me two retakes,” Harry hummed, finding that his footsteps matched Louis’s, “This is my second.”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded, swinging his arms behind his back, where his own bag was slung over, a cute little leather satchel that perfectly matched his outfit, “Then you shouldn’t be so nervous, you already know what to expect.”

Harry paused, finding that they had made it to the end of the hall, where they met a line of students waiting to get into yet another building. Harry had been so enthralled by Louis that he’d forgotten to be nervous. Until now.

“I’m still nervous,” he mumbled, hugging himself and beginning to feel self-conscious when he saw that everyone else was dressed in casual, baggy attire. He was definitely overdressed. He definitely should have known better too.

A soft laugh beside him caught his attention, prompting Harry to look over with slightly wide eyes, his breath hitching at the intense, tickled look in his eyes. He had such pretty eyes. A shade of blue Harry is sure he’s never seen before... _That_ thought has him weak in the knees, wanting to reach into his bag and hand Louis the embarrassing love-worship letter he’d written for Niall Horan. 

“I have full faith in you,” Louis said, eyes boring into his. 

Harry looked away awkwardly, staring at the back of the furry, ginger head of the boy in front of him. “You don’t even know me,” he muttered. 

“True, but I just know,” Louis hummed, standing beside him in line, taking small steps with him every time the line shuffled forward, “I just know I’m looking at the future President of the United States.”

“Gross,” Harry scrunched his nose, “I don’t want anything to do with politics.”

Louis leaned slightly forward, bending a little at the waist as if to hear Harry better, probably unknowing of how it made his heart start stuttering again. Why was this utter stranger - a pretty, so very pretty and beautiful stranger - talking to him as if he were the most interesting person in the world? “Then what do you want to do?” he asked. 

“Umm,” Harry stammered, stumped by the question. Should he lie? Should he say one of the generic answers he’s carefully planned out for such a question? No, he can’t. “I want to be a singer.”

“A singer?” Louis blinked.

“Yeah,” Harry’s eyes flickered away, taking a conscious step backward, feeling so incredibly shy he feared he might combust. Harry has never admitted that to anyone but Zayn before, much less a stranger. “It’s silly-”

“That’s amazing,” Louis said, his words washing over Harry’s, “I want to be a photographer. Maybe when you’re famous I can take pictures of you,” he hummed wistfully, still looking at Harry with slanted, curious eyes, “Assuming you don’t forget me by then.”

Harry laughed, a choked awkward sound that had him reeling with embarrassment again, “I doubt it.”

“You doubt you’d be famous or that you’d forget me?”

“Both,” Harry looked at Louis boldly for a long second before quickly looking away. There was a pause that followed, a mind-numbing silence filled only by the soft muttering and mumbling of the other students around them. 

“Do you play an instrument?” Louis asked, shuffling a little closer to Harry as someone walked past them in the narrow hall. There were four students before them, waiting to check-in. There were even more behind them.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Guitar.”

“Really? I’d have taken you as more of a piano man,” Louis hummed, his lucid blue eyes practically shining. Harry was filled with questions. He wanted to know everything about him. Why he smiled, why he talked with such confidence, why his eyes sparkled so blindingly. 

He pushed a strand of curly hair behind his ear, “I can do that too.”

“Amazing, you’re amazing,” Louis drawled, full of unforgiving and sincere awe that had Harry’s head spinning. No one has ever paid so much undivided attention to him before. “Maybe you can teach me, I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Piano or guitar?” Harry asked softly, completely terrified that Louis would be able to see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead and dampening his hair slightly. Harry just wanted to scream and call Zayn for help on how to keep this conversation going. Forever, if possible.

Louis smirked, learning even closer but Harry still felt like he was miles apart, “Both.”

Harry was one hundred percent sure his brain imploded. Maybe his ovaries too (if he has one). Louis was just so… _pretty_ and his voice was so, so soft yet stable, the complete opposite of Harry who always spoke either just a pitch too high or too low. 

“Next!” A loud voice startled Harry out of his deep, spiraling thoughts. In front of him, sitting behind a desk, was an old lady staring at Harry with dark, boring eyes. 

Harry’s head went blank as he smiled nervously, mumbling out a small, “Hi.”

“I need your school name, your full name, and school ID,” she said, voice hard and demanding. Her eyes were completely focused on Harry, as if judging every bone in his body, as if she _knew_ what Harry was thinking. As if she _knew_ just how badly captivated he was with a boy he’d just met. 

“Oh, right,” he stuttered, reaching for his bag with trembling fingers as he spoke. At this point, he could only hope Louis wasn’t looking at the humiliating encounter (news flash, he definitely was). “Spring Hills High, my name is Harry Styles, and here's my ID.”

The lady practically ripped the ID out of his hand, long acrylic nails scraping over Harry’s short, painted ones. She glanced back and forth between the picture and Harry as if she was completely skeptical that they were the same person. Harry didn’t blame her. The Harry from six months ago was a completely different person than the Harry he was now. Coming out of the closet seemed to do that to people. 

“Alright. Admission paper?”

Thankfully, Harry was prepared for it, quickly handing over the wrinkled sheet of paper, “Here.”

Another long pause. Harry was entirely convinced that the lady hadn’t taken so long with any of the other students, but he didn’t have too much time to speculate when the lady looked up at him with a bright, albeit incredibly fake, grin. “Okay, thank you. Your testing room is on 12F, fourth floor. Next!”

Harry hardly had time to grab his items back and react before Louis was beside him again, handing over his things at lightning speed. 

“Hi,” Louis breathed out, his voice light and equally as soft, as if he didn’t have a fear in the world, “Spring Hills, Louis Tomlinson, here’s my ID and admission paper.” 

Spring Hills... Spring Hills... Spring Hills!? He went to the same school as him? Harry was almost entirely sure he'd never seen the likes of Louis wandering anywhere in their tiny, overcrowded campus. He would definitely have noticed someone as pretty as him. 

“Your testing room is in 12F-” she trailed off, glancing at Harry who was still rooted in place, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, how funny! You have the same room as this young man, how odd. Must be fate.”

Louis laughed, a sound Harry was quickly bewitched by. He wanted to hear more. Louis glanced at Harry with rounded, squinted eyes, curved by his wide grin, “Must be.”

Harry stopped breathing. He wondered if Louis would give him mouth to mouth resuscitation. Harry quickly dispelled that line of thought.

Louis walked closer to him, so close he could smell the soft scent of his laundry detergent and a faint, gentle scent of vanilla, or lavender, or roses (he wasn’t very good with scents). He stopped before Harry, “Shall we?” he asked, indicating to him to lead the way towards the elevators beside them. 

“Right, yeah,” Harry released a shaky breath. He seriously needed to calm down. He was acting like such a _boy._ A horny, little pre-teen boy. “I didn’t know you went to Spring Hill High,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Louis glanced at him, a little startled before he grinned, “Oh, yeah, I only moved here recently. I’m new.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry nodded, satisfied with the answer, “I’m usually good at remembering people’s faces,” he paused, glancing thoughtfully at Louis’s pretty face, “and names. What grade are you in? How long have you been here?”

Harry didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about his rapid-fire of questioning when Louis’s laughter rang out, filling the space of the small elevator. Harry was stunned silent, staring in awe at the way his lips stretched wide and his tongue peeked out behind his teeth, those eyes of his curving with the soft, melodic laugh. Harry could die peacefully listening to it forever. Probably.

“I’m a senior,” Louis grinned, staring at Harry who was _still_ frozen, “I moved here about two months ago. I’m still getting used to all the hustle and bustle around here.”

“I see. The city’s pretty crazy,” Harry hummed, twirling his thumbs around the belt loop of his pants, not seeing when Louis followed the motion with his eyes, lingering for a while before they were back to staring at Harry’s blushing face, “But why so late in the semester…” Harry trailed off, eyes growing slightly wide, “Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Don’t worry, I don't mind,” Louis assured, expression still just as soft, “there isn’t a big, dramatic reason or anything. My mom decided to move to a bigger apartment to fit my sisters and I.”

Harry blinked, “That’s nice.”

“Is it?” Louis’s eyebrow raised, smirking playfully just as the elevator door burst open, directing them to their doom. Harry’s heart started pounding again. 

“Sorry, that was weird,” Harry mumbled, back to clutching his bag, unable to look at him as they began walking. Harry didn’t understand how he could be so embarrassingly awkward. He swears he isn’t _this_ awkward on a regular basis. He swears. A few steps forward, he stopped, “Look, 12F!”

“Oh,” Louis paused beside him too, watching Harry saunter towards the door, “Make sure to push instead of pull.”

Harry scoffed, sending him a playful glare. 

The room was exactly as he expected it. Boring. A typical classroom with desks spread away from each other, and a man stood at the front. Probably the proctor. 

“Welcome, gentlemen!” The man said, sauntering towards them to begin speaking too many words too fast that had Harry quickly zoning out, distracted by his trembling fingertips. This was it. This was _the_ test. The test that could potentially get him into college, and maybe eventually far away from home too. 

“Wanna sit next to each other?” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, the warm breath almost sending his brain tumbling out of his ear, chills running up and down his spine. Harry was only thankful he didn’t shiver.

Harry nodded, incapable of forming words. 

Ten minutes later, his belongings were stashed away at the front of the classroom under the proctor’s watchful eyes, and Harry sat at his desk with bouncing legs and shaking hands, twirling his pencils and calculator around his fingers. His water bottle was half empty already, and he was sure he needed to pee. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Louis whispered from the desk beside him, his body leaning towards Harry. 

“I think I’m going to pee my pants,” he muttered. The girl sitting on the other side glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Harry ignored her. “What score are you aiming for?”

Louis shrugged, nonchalant and peaceful, “The best I can.”

Harry gaped. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis laughed, the sound tumbling easily out of him. Maybe he was nervous too, Harry pondered. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, smiling softly and alleviating the death-like grip he had on his poor, defenseless pencil. A few other students were entering the class. 

“Let’s make a deal, yeah?” 

Harry looked up at Louis curiously, “What deal?”

“Let _me_ worry about your test, and _you_ just focus on acing it. Yeah?” he tilted his head, a single lock of soft, curly hair flopping onto his forehead, “And same vice versa.”

Harry paused, grinning slowly as his heart swelled, feeling a comforting warmth seeping from the pit of his gut. “That’s dumb,” he said, but his soft tone and endeared eyes said a completely different story.

“I know,” Louis’s smile was just as gentle, “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” Harry giggled, having a sudden, intense craving to reach across and grab Louis’s hand, holding it close to steal the warmth that radiated off of him. 

“Alright, is everyone ready!” 

The man’s voice from the front of the room ripped Harry’s gaze away from Louis, choking on nerves for half a second before his mind was filled again with the thought of Louis’s hands. 

God, he was such a creep. 

... 

The beginning section of the testing process was excruciatingly slow, filled with utter silence and short, whispered conversations between five-minute breaks. At one point (right after the reading section), Harry had put his head down and accidentally fell asleep until the monitor tapped on his desk to wake up.

“My eyes are burning,” Harry mumbled, standing up to round his chair and stretch his lower back. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to handle another couple of hours of this. 

“Mine too,” Louis yawned, covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow. The other students in the room were wandering around, pulling out snacks from under their desks and whispering loudly. “Maybe I can take a fifteen minute nap.”

“You can,” Harry hummed, glancing at the clock high on the wall, next to a lame anti-bullying poster, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Louis looked up, “Want to go together?”

Harry’s brain instantly went through a million different scenarios. All of which were completely uncalled for and inappropriate. 

“Yeah, sure,” he answered eventually, watching Louis stand up. He'd almost forgotten about the slight height difference. 

The bathroom wasn’t very far, but it felt like an eternity away. Neither of them said anything, with Harry too nervous and Louis seemingly in a sleepy daze. Harry didn’t blame him. 

“How do you think you did so far?” Harry whispered, spotting the bathroom sign a bit further ahead. 

“What happened to our deal?” Louis frowned, playfully skipping ahead and opening the door for Harry, who played along and did a small curtsy.

“I’m staying true to it,” Harry said, “According to our deal, I’m worrying about _you_. Personally, I think I did amazing. Definitely perfect marks.” It was a total lie. Harry guessed his way through half the questions. Probably got the other half wrong too.

“Oh,” Louis laughed, eyes on Harry until he (almost reluctantly) turned to head towards the sinks while Harry went into a stall (because he despised urinals). There was another boy inside washing his hands. “Then so did I. I’m sure Yale will be calling soon.”

Harry giggled, locking the stall, “You’re more of a Harvard boy, I think.”

He could hear Louis hum softly, followed by the sound of running water and the hand dryer. Harry took opportunity of the loud sound to quickly pee. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about the whole thing. 

Two minutes later he was out. Louis was standing next to the sink with hands in his pockets and his sweatshirt rolled up his forearms, exposing tanned, silky skin. If Harry were an animal he’d be salivating right now.

“That was fast,” Louis said, a wide smirk on his lips. 

Harry scoffed, coming forward to scoot beside the spot on the sink. He could see himself in the mirror; blushing face, curls messy, and the bottom of his eyes spotty with tears from constant yawning. He could also see Louis staring at him, body facing him, face drawn close. They were alone too. 

Harry almost burst out crying for absolutely no reason. 

“Umm,” Harry muttered, desperate to fill the empty silence. Though Louis wasn’t saying anything, he only kept staring. Staring and staring. “I-”

“Can I kiss you?”

The words rendered Harry into a stunned silence. What the hell. What the fuck. What did he _say_? 

“What?” It was all Harry could manage to say, eyes wide and nearly popping out of his sockets (humiliating? Yes.) as they faced each other, staring and staring.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes were blinding, staring at Harry with such deep intensity he was sure Louis could see inside of him, could see every raging thought that spiraled past him. 

“Yes,” Harry gasped, as if the words were ripped from him, “Kiss me.”

It happened so fast. One moment he was a stuttering mess, wanting nothing more than to touch his hand and maybe (if he were lucky) get to hear that mesmerizing sound of his laugh, and now here they were, lips pressed and an empty head. 

Sparks flew. Definitely. Fireworks, explosions, the works. A baby was born somewhere from this kiss alone. Harry was sure of it. 

They pulled apart quickly, panting despite not doing much other than locking lips, lasting less than a minute. Or at least, _Harry_ was gasping. Louis only smirked down at him, a warm, firm hand sitting on the middle of his waist, soft and gentle, barely a breath of a touch. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” Louis muttered, pink lips and blue eyes wet, glassy. “It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

“I like your laugh,” Harry whispered, feeling weak at the knees. God, he was _so_ pathetic, he screamed inside his head. He wanted to die. Or kiss again. Or die. Or kiss. Or-

“We should probably head back,” Louis said, taking a gentle step back. “You know, SAT and all.”

Harry’s heart dropped. Whether from the reminder or from disappointment, he wasn’t sure. 

“Right,” he nodded, drying his still wet hands on his jeans.

Louis hummed, as if he didn’t know what to say either. Harry took a few steps forward, and then almost without consent, he called out, “Wait!” 

Louis froze, looking at him with raised eyebrows and eyes slightly wide, “What is it?”

“You’re not dating anyone, right?” Harry asked, though he already knew the answer. He knew - or hoped, at least - that Louis wouldn’t be the type of person to cheat. Or lie about it. 

Louis clearly wasn’t expecting the question. He blinked once, then twice, and then without warning, he laughed. It was different from all the other ones. This one was caught off guard, unrestrained, resembling more of a bark than anything. Harry was in love with the sound alone. 

“No, I’m not dating anyone,” he gasped, fingers brushing under his eyes, as if wiping away a nonexistent tear. He eyed Harry down and up for a second, grin growing and eyes sparkling. 

“Good,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

“Are you?” Louis asked, incredulously, leaning forward to peer at him. 

Harry snorted, “Nope.”

“Good.”

Another pause. Harry figured they should leave soon, unsure of how much time was left in their short recess. But not a few steps later, he stopped again, “One more thing.

Louis turned to him, always giving his undivided attention. Harry almost swooned. “Yes?”

“Can you check if the back of my pants is stained? I think I saw something on my chair when I sat earlier.”

Harry doesn’t know what sadistic demon possessed him to ask such a thing. He just wanted Louis to look at his ass (which was beautiful, according to Zayn, whom he trusted with his life). 

Louis froze completely, and to Harry’s gleeful horror, a blush crept up high on his cheeks. He knew. He _definitely_ knew. But he did it anyway, and after a long, drawn-out pause, Louis answered in a soft, slightly high voice, “You’re good.”

Harry laughed. He wasn’t even (that) embarrassed about it either.

. . . 

Harry had entirely forgotten about the kiss by the time he finished the math portion of the test, his brain completely fried and legs jittering as the proctor walked around collecting their exams. 

He sat in a daze, fingers threaded through his hair and unable to conjure up a single thought. 

On second thought, he lied. A million thoughts were running through his head. He failed. He was undoubtedly sure of it. Forget about his dream college, he was sure that a simple community college wasn’t even an option anymore. He was so screwed. And _not_ in a good way. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Harry looked up with a start, getting an eyeful of a pretty face right in front of him, one elbow leaning on his desk and a hand at the back of his chair. 

“Yeah, my head is just killing me,” Harry replied after a few long seconds, patting down his hair and slowly standing up, feeling wobbly on his feet. “And I’m _starving.”_

Louis hummed, and within the next second, an impossibly warm hand was on his shoulder, sitting so softly and gently that Harry could have sworn a phantom of a ghost had touched him. And then it hit him. They kissed. Louis had kissed Harry and Harry kissed Louis. Harry and Louis. Harry and Louis kissed in a random school’s bathroom after meeting only once. It was like a fairy tale. 

“I think we all deserve a big, hot lunch right about now.”

Harry barked out a nervous laugh, snatching his bag out of the front of the classroom as Louis did the same, and then they exited with Louis leading the way, hand still on his shoulder. The hand was hot, seeping with heat that Harry was sure would leave an imprint of that perfect hand on his skin. Harry wanted to grab it, hold it, and… well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it then. Maybe just hold it forever. 

“My friend promised to take me out to eat at the Cheesecake Factory after this,” Harry grinned, stomach rumbling with anticipation.

“That sounds incredible, actually,” Louis said, and with just a glance Harry knew that the boy was daydreaming about the food too. He didn’t blame him. “Their pasta Alfredo is next level.”

“Really?” Harry perked up, footsteps lightening up, “I’ve never been before. Well, technically I did once, but it was just leftovers my mom brought, so it doesn’t count.”

“Oh that _definitely_ does _not_ count,” Louis scoffed, tone playful as they walked down the hallways, other students beginning to crowd around them as their tests began to finish as well. “And the Oreo cheesecake? Ugh,” he made a weird, chef's kiss noise, “ _phenomenal_.” 

“Really? The strawberry one looked really good on the online menu too, though.”

“That one’s good too, but Oreos have my heart.”

Harry giggled, clicking the button open for the elevator. It opened almost instantly.

They stood still for a long second, waiting for the doors to close, almost _praying_ they would soon, before anyone else decided to join them. Harry wanted it. He wanted to kiss him again. But of course (obviously) two more students piled into the cramped space, forcing Harry to shuffle closer to Louis, practically stepping on his feet. Though the awkward close proximity forced Louis to move his hand away from his shoulder, leaving Harry at a loss, until it was found again at his waist, barely brushing the fabric of his shirt with long fingers. Harry wanted to grasp his hand and force his hand to stay still. To _hold_ it there. Maybe glue it there too. 

No one said anything. It was awkward and uncomfortable, nothing but loud breathing and constant sniffing from the boy huddled in the corner, probably crying. Harry knew exactly how he was feeling.

“Harvard will be calling you in no time,” Louis whispered against his ear, as if he had heard Harry’s thoughts.

“Thought it was Yale?” Harry smirked, fingers back to clutching his bag, missing the feel of that warm hand on his shoulder and that warm hand on his waist. And those warm lips on his. 

“You’re more of a Harvard boy,” Louis grinned.

“A Harvard boy who plays piano,” Harry snorted, “You really have me all figured out, huh?”

“Naturally, how can I not?” he laughed, speaking softly, but neither of them cared too much if the others could hear them, “I want to know everything about you.”

Harry wondered how they managed to get here. What conversation, what motion, what signal had led them to this exact moment? (As if Harry wasn’t looking at Louis with pure, unrestrained desire since their first encounter). 

Harry stammered, rendered speechless. Luckily, he didn’t have to think too hard when the doors ripped open, opening them to the blinding light coming from the windows. It was already past noon (he assumed, his phone was still off and stashed somewhere inside his bag). Harry wanted nothing more than a full meal while telling Zayn every single detail about today and then a long, long nap. 

The walk back to the front of the school was silent, but not necessarily awkward. They were both exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. They didn’t even notice the front desk lady wave them out as they passed. 

“You have a ride, yeah?” Louis asked once they stepped out. Harry used his hands as a visor against the blindingly bright sun. 

“Yeah, my friend Zayn is picking me up,” Harry said.

Louis nodded, “That’s great.”

There was a pause. Harry sensed Louis was hesitating to leave but didn’t know how to say it, probably afraid Harry would feel like he was being left alone. He smiled at that. 

“Oh look! there he is!” Harry said, pretending to be shocked when he spotted the familiar green car parked in the same spot as earlier. He had already seen Zayn’s car the second they stepped out. He just wasn’t willing to leave yet.

Louis’s eyes followed his finger, a soft smile on his lips as his eyes squinted, equally as bothered by the sun. His vibrant blue eyes reflected in the light, looking paler and more defined. Beautiful. Harry wanted to take a picture of them and hang them all over his room. God, he was such a creep.

“Okay, well…” Harry trailed off, wanting nothing more than to combust into thin air. Goodbyes were always so awkward. He also didn’t want to go. “I should go.”

“Right, okay,” Louis nodded, awkwardly lingering as well,

“Is your ride here already?” 

“Nah, I drove. Gotta pick up my sister soon.”

“Oh.” Another pause. Harry wanted to kiss him again, to press their lips together so that he wouldn’t forget the feeling. He didn’t, though. “Well, bye.”

“Bye,” Louis chuckled, a soft breathy sound as he waved, and so Harry left, walking a little too fast and glancing back too many times. 

Upon opening the car door, Zayn immediately pounced on his. 

“Who was that?” he asked, intently staring at the rearview mirror, “he’s hot.”

Harry immediately flushed red, releasing a brutal sigh he didn’t know he was holding. He turned to Zayn with wide eyes, “he kissed me."

Zayn blinked. 

“What?”

Harry nodded frivolously, “he kissed me. In the bathrooms.”

“What the fuck?” Zayn gaped, staring at Harry as if he didn’t recognize him. “Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“Was it consensual?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yes, stupid.”

“I was just asking!” Zayn replied defensively, gaping at Harry for a while more before he turned the car on, the engine coming alive. “And here I was thinking you were in there cold, lonely, and scared.”

“I _was_ cold,” Harry muttered, rubbing his shivering arms. Every pent-up emotion he’d suppressed escaping him in a heap. “And scared.”

“So? What happened? What’s his name? What school does he go to? What did you guys talk about? How did the kiss feel? Are you totally in love?”

Harry froze at the assault of questions before slowly answering them one by one. 

“His name is Louis-”

“That’s a fancy name. Sounds French.”

“- and he goes to Spring Hills, but he only just moved here recently. We met because I humiliated myself trying to open the door-”

“Of course you did.”

“- and I can’t even remember what we talked about,” Harry sighed, covering his face behind his palms, “he was just so pretty! And his _eyes_ ! Oh my God, Zayn, you should have seen his eyes, they’re beautiful. And his smile? And laugh? Absolutely-” Harry flailed his hands around, “- he was literally just perfect. And _so_ nice. Like, super, super nice and gentle.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! And then during the fifteen-minute recess time, we went to the bathroom, right?”

“Right.”

“And he just kept staring at me with those pretty blue eyes. Like, just _staring_ , and-”

“his eyes are blue?”

Harry paused, turning to Zayn with a glare, “Quiet, I’m talking.”

Zayn snorted, “Sorry, keep going.”

“Thank you, anyways as I was saying,” Harry cleared his throat, wanting nothing more than to keep talking and relive the moment forever, “So he was staring at me, right? Like just staring in silence, and then out of nowhere he was like, ‘ _Can I kiss you?_ ’ and oh my God, Zayn, I-'' Harry gasped, fanning his face as his throat closed up and he choked. 

“Oh. My. God.” Zayn laughed, an evil cackle that had Harry’s head spinning, stuck with the feeling of Louis’s lips on his. He wanted to do it again. “Your first kiss in a dirty, school bathroom.”

“Shut up!” Harry screamed, wanting to crawl in a hole, but in the best way possible. “It all happened so fast.”

“So? Then what happened?” 

“Nothing,” Harry pouted, stretching across the back seat to snatch Zayn’s hoodie and draping it over himself, “We just went back to class.”

“Wait, what!?” Zayn glanced at him, puzzled, “What do you mean _that’s it_? So you just kissed? And that’s it?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, “Unfortunately, he didn’t rail me in the toilet stall.”

Zayn snorted, “As if you would have done anything more than a kiss, babes.”

“Why are you attacking me, Zayn?”

“So now what? Did you get his number? Are you two going on a date? Or was it just a kiss and goodbye? How romantic.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Of course I got his-” he bolted upright almost immediately, the sweater falling off of him as he turned to Zayn, pure horror in his eyes. 

“What is it?” Zayn asked curtly, startled and concerned by his dramatic reaction.

“I-“ Harry stammered, unable to conjure up words, “I forgot to get his number.”

“What?” Zayn frowned.

“I forgot!” Harry screamed, clutching at Zayn’s sleeve, only to let go when the car swerved a little, “I can’t believe- how, how could I forget such an important thing?”

“It’s okay, don’t panic,” Zayn was quick to reassure, patting Harry’s frantic hands, “You said he goes to Spring Hills right? We can just look for him on Monday.”

It took a long minute before Harry’s heart eventually settled and he nodded, trying to convince himself as well. 

“Okay, yeah. You’re right,” Harry mumbled, “I’ll just look for him on Monday.”

“Exactly,” Zayn hummed, and Harry realized that they were already at the restaurant.

“I really liked him,” Harry whispered, utterly distraught. What if he never saw him again?

Zayn didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. 

Harry would definitely find him again.

**...**

“Are you still not over that boy? It’s been a week.”

Harry glared at Zayn, who was spinning on his desk chair, throwing balls of sticky-note papers at his Niall Horan poster. Harry has been spending an awful amount of time staring at that poster recently. If he squinted his eyes real hard Harry could almost convince himself he was looking at Louis, smiling at him. 

It wasn’t far-fetched to say that Harry was heartbroken. Obviously. And delusional.

“Why can’t I find him? I’ve asked everyone,” Harry sniffed, huddled under a pile of blankets. “It’s not like he could have lied about what school he went to.”

“Maybe he’s hiding from you,” Zayn muttered, throwing the last ball in his hands before he spun to turn to Harry, who flicked him off. “You probably scared him off with your inability to open doors.”

“You’re useless,” Harry flopped back into his pillow. 

“Maybe today’s the day,” Zayn said, coming over and ripping the blankets away from a struggling Harry, “All the seniors are going to the assembly in the auditorium today, maybe you’ll find him there.”

Harry perked up at that, “You think?”

Zayn snorted, “Sure.”

Harry sighed, “I’ll cry again if he’s not.”

“You’ll cry either way,” Zayn laughed, “Now get up and get dressed, you have fifteen minutes.”

Harry sighed again. He's been doing that a lot recently. 

. . . 

The anti-bullying assembly was the same as every year before it. Boring. No one was really paying attention, all seniors scattered across the seats of the auditorium, but not Harry. He was on the hunt.

“Do you see him anywhere?” he elbowed Zayn, who was scrolling on his phone, hiding it beneath his lap.

“No,” he muttered, “Maybe he’s on the other side?”

“What other side? He’s not _dead_.” Harry slumped in his seat, feeling defeated. It was useless. He felt dumb. And stupid. Looking for someone who probably - maybe - wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe Louis had forgotten him completely by now. Maybe Louis just wanted a kiss and goodbye.

Harry wanted to cry again.

“Wait!” Zayn whisper-yelled, elbowing Harry harshly in the rib, making him double over and gasp in pain, “Is that him?”

Harry didn't want to look up, far too afraid of the disappointment. But he did it anyway, and his heart instantly dropped, breath caught in his throat. There he was. Standing at the entrance, walking in a line behind other students shuffling to fill empty seats. He looked the same as last time, wearing a black shirt with words he couldn’t read and dark jeans, only his arm… it was in a cast. A million questions instantly overwhelmed him.

“Was he in a cast last time?” Zayn asked softly beside him.

Harry shook his head, “No.”

“Maybe that’s why we haven’t seen him, he broke his arm.”

“Probably,” Harry nodded, stuck in a daze. He was staring, but he didn’t care, his neck craned to watch Louis walk and eventually sit down. Harry noticed his eyes were wandering too, scanning the crowd, as if looking for Harry too (at least, he hoped), and then it happened. Their eyes met. Green eyes met blue, an ocean clashing between them. Harry gasped discreetly (it wasn’t discreet).

Louis’s eyes seemed to light up, and then without warning, a brilliant grin formed, assaulting Harry with the sight of a perfect smile and two curved eyes. Harry’s heart pounded, blood rushing through his head. He looked away quickly, slumping back into his seat in a daze.

“He looked at me,” he whispered to Zayn.

“I saw,” Zayn grinned, looking way too proud for some reason.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

Zayn blinked, turning to Harry with a start, “What?”

“I don’t know, I-” he stuttered, “I feel like there’s a reason I haven’t seen him until now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause his arm is broken.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “That's not what I meant.”

“You said you liked him, right?” Zayn sighed, face full of seriousness. Harry nodded. “Then go talk to him again. It’s probably all just a big misunderstanding.”

Harry didn't answer, only flickering his eyes to look back at the other boy, only to quickly look away when he realized Louis was still staring at him. 

Harry wanted to cry.

. . .

The assembly went by painfully slow, as if time was being dragged by the leg, kicking and screaming. Harry doesn't know how many times he’s yawned, Zayn sleeping on his shoulder. 

Though it was over now, and everyone was beginning to shuffle out while Harry painstakingly tried to wake Zayn up. 

“Wake up!” Harry smacked Zayn gently, who only frowned and burrowed himself deeper. Zayn was a heavy, _heavy_ , sleeper. Harry smacked him again, harder this time.

“What? What?” Zayn grumbled, finally waking up and rubbing his cheek, looking sleepy and droopy-eyed, “Is it over?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah.”

“Nice.”

Harry got up slowly, taking his time to bend down and grab his bag from under his seat, but when he came back up again it wasn’t Zayn standing there, instead a black shirt taking up his vision. 

“Hi,” Louis breathed, standing almost awkwardly and holding his cast with his other hand. Doodles and names sprawled sporadically across it. 

“Hi,” Harry whispered, far too conscious of all the students walking around them, talking and laughing and being loud. Louder than them. 

Louis took a deep breath, “I-”

“I couldn’t find you,” Harry said before he could stop himself, the words leaving him in one exhale. 

Louis blinked, a small, sheepish smile forming on his lips as he raised his arm slightly, “I got in a car crash and broke my arm.”

It was Harry’s turn to blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. “What?”

“Yeah, I barely left the parking lot when I realized I had forgotten to get your number,” he said slowly, tentatively, “And I remembered you were going to the Cheesecake Factory, so I figured maybe I could find you there, but I made a wrong turn and got hit by another car.”

Harry gaped, frozen in place. What the fuck. 

“Oh,” was all he could say. He didn’t know _what_ to say. What _could_ he even say to that? Should he apologize? Harry couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

But then Louis laughed, the sound breathy and playful. Harry was instantly reminded again by how mesmerized he was by it. It was the type of laugh you only saw in movies, up on the big screens, where perfection was found, nearly met.

“So can I?” Louis asked, stepping a little closer to him. Harry gulped. 

“Can you what?”

“Can I get your number?” Louis grinned, producing a sleek black phone out of thin air. Harry froze, robotically reaching for it and typing in his number. There were zero thoughts in his brain. He was speechless. 

It was all happening so fast. Again.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said as soon as he received his phone back, and it successfully managed to snap Harry out of it.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, softly, reaching forward to brush a finger across his cast, down from his elbow to the tip of his palm to his fingertips, soft and warm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It kind of was,” Louis grinned, watching him move with sparkling eyes, “I ran the stop sign.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “That’s not what I meant."

“I know,” Louis hummed, “I heard you were looking around for me.” Harry’s face instantly flamed red. He was caught. Humiliating. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Harry blinked.

“For not forgetting about me,” Louis laughed. 

Harry snorted, noticing they were one of the last few people still in the auditorium, Zayn having disappeared, and his fingers were still grazing Louis’s hand. He wasn’t sure if he should be glad that he finally got to grab it. His wish from last week finally met.

“It’d be hard to forget you,” he said, looking away, unable to handle the intensity of Louis’s gaze, “You took my last first kiss, after all.”

Louis froze at that. A full-body motion and stunned silence. Harry froze too, wondering if he said something wrong. Was that a weird thing to say? 

Though Louis didn’t allow him to question himself for long, and in one swooning motion, a soft hand was on his cheek and warm lips were pressed to his again, as soft and gentle as the first time. Two encounters and two kisses. 

“I just took your second kiss too,” Louis grinned, pressing against him, his broken arm still being grasped by Harry while his other hand touched his face. It was all so… _soft_. Harry could almost melt into a puddle, right in the dirty carpet of the school’s auditorium. “Let me take you out on a date, yeah?”

Harry didn’t have to answer. He already knew the hearts flying around his head were answer enough. Louis knew too, but Harry was compelled (by a force so much bigger than him) that he couldn’t resist meeting lips again, smiling softly, 

“Yeah.” 

... 

“Favorite movie?”

“The Notebook.”

“Seriously?”

Harry laughed at Louis’s disgruntled expression, trying to hide his fond eyes behind his cup of tea. 

“I should have known you were those types,” Louis fake sighed, setting down his fork on their shared slice of chocolate cake. They were in a cute little cafe with brown and creamy white walls, the whole atmosphere warm and cuddly and soft. He and Louis were settled at the back, slouched too close together in a love seat, with Harry practically on Louis’s lap as they bashfully giggled at each other. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry scoffed, bumping Louis' shoulder with his. He knew they were being disgustingly coy with each other, hearts and rainbows and bubbles practically radiating off of them. The barista already looked sick of them. 

“It’s cute,” Louis said softly, snaking his hand to wrap around Harry’s waist. Louis’s other hand was no longer immobile, though occasionally Louis would complain about wrist pain (though Harry knew it was just an excuse to have Harry fawning over him). He leaned in close to Harry, muttering into his ear, “ _You’re_ cute.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry’s face was red, feeling like a puddle under Louis’ intense stare, just as deep and consuming as that day just three months ago. Three months. That’s how long they’ve known each other, and it’s been the best couple of months of Harry’s life. Being with Louis was just... _great_. Amazing. He’d never felt so at ease than when he was with him. 

“I’m not,” Louis grinned, nuzzling Harry’s dimple with his nose until Harry turned to look at him, noses brushing against each other and breaths hitching, though just as Louis seemed about to close the distance between them, Harry quickly brought a hand to stop him. Louis froze, glancing down at Harry’s hand sprawled out on his chest before looking up at Harry’s blushing face with raised eyebrows.

“Not here,” Harry muttered, smirking mischievously and motioning with his eyes to the barista staring at them from across the room. Louis barely glanced before looking at Harry with disgruntled eyes and a pouting lip, intending to move back only to freeze when Harry lurched forward to press his lips against Louis’ ear, pressing a soft wet kiss against his earlobe and whispering, “My dad won’t be home this weekend.”

He could feel Louis freeze completely, a blush creeping up from the base of his neck to the top of his head, looking at Harry with wide startled eyes. 

It was a few long, intense moments of eye contact later that Louis suddenly grinned, hand tightening around Harry’s waist, forcing his back to arch slightly against him with how close they were. “Yeah?” He breathed out, voice shaky and wobbly as if he were trying his hardest to feign nonchalance. 

“Yeah, so you should come over,” Harry said, hand rubbing small circles on the neck of Louis’ shirt, fluttering his eyes up at him past his lashes, “You know, show you around the place.”

“It’d like that,” Louis mumbled, staring at Harry’s red lips trapped between his teeth. Using his injured hand he gently grasped Harry’s hand away from his chest, intertwining their fingers while pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

Harry smiled softly, shy and content, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Louis agreed, pressing another chaste kiss against Harry’s cheek, all the while alarm bells went off in Harry’s head.

.

“What was I thinking!?” He screeched at Zayn as soon as he saw him, a few hours after Louis dropped Harry off at his apartment complex and Harry had spammed Zayn with urgent “911” texts. 

“You were thinking with your dick, apparently,” Zayn was laughing at him, sprawled all over Harry’s bed while he paced around the room. 

“He can't come _here_!” Harry cried, flinging his arms.

“Why not?” Zayn muttered, face pressed against the pillow. 

“Well, for one, this room is tiny.”

“It’s not! You’re just used to it so it feels small,” Zayn insisted, finally looking at Harry and sitting up, pressing his back against the wall.

“And I have all these embarrassing posters everywhere!” Harry stressed, pointing at his wall of Niall Horan posters and his collection of albums. 

“They’re cute,” Zayn promised.

“And not only that, but I invited him _here_. Alone. While my dad is gone and won’t be coming back,” Harry said, completely ignoring Zayn’s comments.

“It’d be weird if your dad _was_ here.”

“Zayn!” Harry cried, stopping by the bedside and flinging himself to wrap his arms around Zayn’s torso, pressing his face against his belly. “What do I do?”

“About what?” 

Harry smacked him, “About Louis!”

“Well if you don’t want him to come over just tell him your dad’s business trip got canceled.”

Harry sighed, nuzzling his face closer to Zayn’s abdomen, “I want him to.”

“What was that?” Zayn hummed, gently threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and petting him.

“I want him to come,” Harry repeated, “‘M just nervous.”

“Oh, babes,” Zayn laughed, squeezing Harry’s cheeks until he looked like a pouting fish, “My sweet, innocent little Harry. You’re so cute.”

“Be quiet,” Harry grumbled, pinching Zayn’s thigh, “It’s my first time! What if it’s totally awkward?”

“Please, you two always look seconds away from jumping each other,” Zayn snorted, “How far have you gone?”

Harry’s face instantly flamed red, his blood boiling in embarrassment. He was sure steam was coming out of his ears. 

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Zayn was grinning, Harry could hear it in his voice. “I told you everything when Liam and I got together.”

“Yeah, against my will,” Harry snorted, rolling away from Zayn until he laid on his back, “You held me down and gave me pornographic descriptions. I was traumatized.”

“And I did it because I love you!” Zayn exclaimed, patting Harry’s cheek lovingly. “Now come on, hurry up, we don’t have all day. The weekend is coming up fast and heavy around the corner.”

Harry groaned and rolled over, hugging his pillow against his chest so he wouldn’t have to look at Zayn as he begrudgingly responded, “Blow job.”

“Oh?” Zayn gasped, obvious from his tone that he was biting back a giggle, “That’s honestly farther than I expected. I had predicted a handie.” 

Harry sighed again.

“Do you have condoms? Lube?”

“Zayn!” Harry cried, covering his ears. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Don’t forget to remind Louis to go out and buy some, but something tells me he won’t need to.”

Harry looked at him then, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “Why do you say that?”

“Harry, babe,” Zayn looked down at Harry, smiling creepily, “I’m one hundred percent sure that boy went out and bought some right after that first kiss you two had. He seems the type to be prepared.”

“No way,” Harry shook his head, avoiding making eye contact with his annoying best friend. 

“Alright, Harry sweetie, you stay delusional,” Zayn said in a sweetly condescending tone, shuffling away from Harry and standing up, “It’s part of your charm.”

“Shut up.”

... 

The sun was starting to set, falling quick and fast like a fiery meteorite, collapsing in pretty shades of yellow, orange, purples, and pinks. 

“...and then Stan had the _audacity_ to say that Cars 2 is better than Cars. I swear, Harry, I can’t stand that kid sometimes- Harry?”

Snapped out of his daze, Harry looked up at Louis, guilt flooding him when he saw Louis’ concerned eyes looking down at him. 

“You okay, babe?” Louis asked, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Harry’s back until he rested it on the nape of his neck, eyes searching Harry’s.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry shook his head, hooking his arms around Louis’ neck. He was settled on Louis’ lap, cuddled close to him in the far back of their usual cafe, wrapped in each other’s arms as Louis ranted about who-knows-what (honestly, Harry hadn’t been listening to a single word). “Just distracted.”

“Oh?” Louis hummed, the hand on his neck crawling up to wrap into his hair, tugging gently, “What’s keeping that pretty little head of yours so busy?

Harry blushed, evading Louis' gaze by sinking his forehead against his shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss against it, “Nothing important.”

Louis frowned, petting Harry’s hair in a way that had him practically purring against him (Harry doesn’t actually purr though, he swears). “You’ve been distracted all week, are you sure? Are you feeling sick or something?” He asked, putting his hand to Harry’s forehead and checking his temperature.

“I’m fine, Lou, really,” Harry smiled, endeared by the worried expression he was sporting as he grabbed Louis hand from his face and brought it down to his lap, mindlessly toying with his fingers and bashfully looking up at Louis, watching him gulp, “I just keep thinking about you.”

“Oh?” Louis grinned slowly, wiggling his fingers and making Harry giggle, “And what about me?”

“Oh, you know…” Harry trailed off, tracing his index finger up Louis’ wrist and arm until it settled nicely on the curve of Louis’ neck and shoulder, boldly looking up and staring at him, “I keep thinking about your eyes, and your eyelashes, and your cheekbones… and your lips…” He said, his lips pressed right against Louis' ear, breathing out hotly and enjoying the shiver that ran down his spine. 

“Really?” Louis hummed, trying to sound contemplative even if quickening breathing gave him away. Though Harry wasn’t going to mention that. “And what are you thinking of doing with them?”

Harry grinned, biting at Louis’ earlobe and tugging gently, hoping to God that the barista couldn’t see them and come yelling at them again. “Want them on me.”

“Naughty,” Louis chuckled, gripping harder on Harry’s hair and pulling slightly so that he was no longer attached to his ear and Louis was able to press their lips together, moving against each other soft and gentle and wet. “Not going to stop us this time?” Louis breathed into his mouth between kisses, “You’re our voice of reason.”

Harry gasped, one hand on Louis’ chest ready to pull away while also unwilling to do so. It took a few minutes, but by the time Harry managed to break apart, they were both flushed and panting, Harry’s red-tinted lipstick rubbed into Louis’s skin, making him look rugged and raw, which had Harry tempted to lean back in for another kiss. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Harry announced abruptly, swiftly standing up on unsteady legs, feeling limp and weak-kneed and aroused. Louis watched him with parted lips and raised eyebrows, looking confused as Harry walked away until he looked back with a wink and all the pieces connected in Louis’s head. With a giddy grin, he waited a few minutes to gather himself and stand up to follow after Harry, making sure none of the staff saw him walk into the bathrooms. 

While Harry waited for him, he took a few deep breaths, trying to still his shaking hands as he attempted to flatten down his hair, messy from Louis’ wandering hands. Using a napkin he cleaned up the area around his lips, which were starting to become swollen and even redder despite most of the lipstick having worn off. 

“Haz?” He heard Louis knock from outside, and quickly Harry scrambled to unlock it, watching Louis slip inside, Harry practically reeking of nervousness. “Hey, baby. Fancy meeting you here.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head in amusement as he watched Louis stalk closer until he had pressed Harry against the wall with his hands on Harry’s hips. “I’m starting to think you have a thing for bathrooms.”

Louis snorted, lining kisses along Harry’s jaw, their bodies pressed close and flushed against each other. Harry could feel something hard poking his thigh (the same way his own was against Louis). 

Harry liked kissing Louis. He liked the way Louis' lips moved against his, open-mouthed and wet and messy. It was anything but the innocent way they flirted with each other, obscene with spit leaking down the corner of their lips with Louis softly grinding against Harry. The last time they were this close was after school in the empty dressing rooms when Harry went to visit Louis backstage after their school rendition of Grease, the day ending with Louis on his knees and Harry gasping and hanging onto the wall. 

“You okay, babe?” Louis asked, noticing Harry’s lips begin to falter against his, raising an eyebrow and moving down to kiss down Harry’s throat, smirking when he subconsciously tilted his head to give him better access. 

“Yeah,” Harry replied, snapping out of his memory fog to cling one hand to Louis' shoulder and the other to his hip, whimpering slightly when Louis began mouthing at the spot beneath his ear. 

“Thinking about me again?” He asked, grin cheeky and mischievous. 

Harry only nodded, threading his fingers into Louis’ hair and pulling him lightly so they could kiss again, liking the way Louis’ lips become redder and messier. “Want you,” he whispered, breathing hotly against him. 

“Which part of me?” Louis rolled his hips into Harry, hard and abrupt, making him gasp. 

“All of you,” Harry whimpered, body going soft and pliant.

“You have me,” Louis promised, biting Harry’s swollen bottom lip between his teeth and pulling slightly. 

“Want your dick too,” Harry grinned, obscenely reaching down and cupping Louis through his pants, enjoying the way he tensed and stilled against him, a gasp ripping from his lips.

“You can have anything you want, babe,” he muttered, pressing chaste butterfly kisses on Harry and _God_ , Harry’s heart was pounding alarmingly fast in his chest. What was he _thinking_? Harry always forgot he was an innocent (really, he wasn’t) little virgin before Louis appeared in his life. And he was sure all the porn he’s watched over the years wasn’t enough to give him any practical skills or experience. Yet, still, here he was, pressing Louis against the wall and slowly sinking to his knees, not even caring to think about how dirty the floor was or if someone would come knocking soon. He couldn’t even think straight, mind set on zipping down Louis’ jeans. 

“Harry, _fuck_ ,” Louis groaned, watching Harry lick his lips as he sunk his hands into his hair as if praising him. Looking up at him past his lashes, Harry smirked discreetly, liking how distraught Louis looked while watching him, eyes full of anticipation and want. Louis _wanted_ him. Harry shivered again, renewed with determination to pull down Louis’ pants and briefs in one motion, until Louis’ cock sprung out in front of him, hard and throbbing and leaking pre-cum. 

Harry was panting, trembling with hands shaking from nervousness. He just wanted to make Louis _feel_ _good_. 

“Harry?” Louis asked, voice strained and yet calm, soft, slightly insecure as he looked at Harry, who was staring at his dick, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Harry paused, looking up into those pretty, slightly red blue eyes filled with concern and adoration, making Harry’s heart flutter and chest warm. He shook his head, leaning forward to lick tentatively against Louis’ member, a kitten-like touch that had Louis gasping, “I want to,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath and slowly opening his mouth. 

Harry had no idea what he was doing, trying to recollect every memory and tip he’d accumulated from porn and mimicking what Louis himself had done to him. But he was clumsy and inexperienced, trying to swallow down Louis’ cock too fast and ending up gagging and pulling away. Louis chuckled from above him, lovingly petting Harry’s head, “Go slow, love,” he said, and Harry nodded, mouthing at the tip for a few seconds, trying to gain back his confidence to work his way back further down Louis, sucking hard and trying his best to not accidentally scrape Louis with his teeth, not that Louis wound have minded with the way he moaned and called Harry’s name, gently rolling his hips into Harry’s mouth. 

Harry was whimpering, the vibration making Louis shudder with pleasure, drool dripping down from the corner of Harry’s lips. 

“ _Fuck_ , Haz, you feel so good,” Louis groaned, head thrown back against the wall. Harry’s chest filled with pride at the compliment, compelling him to suck harder and make more delicious sounds escape from his mouth. And Louis was definitely not being quiet. Any other time Harry would have worried about being heard by someone, but currently, Harry would rather die than stop hearing those alluring cries and moans. Harry learned he definitely liked sucking dick. 

Louis began thrusting faster into Harry’s mouth, more desperate and rough, clearly on the verge of coming, hardly noticing when he bumped the back of Harry’s throat, making his choke. 

“Shit, Harry, I’m-” Louis gasped, coming hard into his mouth. Harry barely had time to pull back so that the cum wouldn’t go directly down his throat and choking him, diligently swallowing it all while staring up at Louis’ pleasure filled face, eyes glassy and lips wet. 

Once Louis was done, Harry pulled away, sinking onto his heels with a gasp, licking his lips, tasting the salty remains of Louis, feeling greedy and messy. His own cock in his pants was hard and leaking, straining the seams on his jeans. 

“God, Harry, are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Louis muttered, panting heavily and staring at Harry with amazed, hungry eyes. He looked at Harry as if he were something precious made of gold and diamonds and rubies. “Come here, baby,” he said, helping guide Harry up and pressing him against the sink and settling between his legs. Harry whimpered, kissing Louis in a sloppy opened mouth kiss, sharing the taste of Louis’ own cum with him, which Louis hungrily swallowed. He could feel Louis carefully unzip him, hand plunging down to grasp his leaking member. God, Harry knew his pants were a mess. 

“Oh God, Louis,” he moaned (more of a cry, really) as Louis jerked him off, hard and quick and Harry knew he wasn’t going to last long, too far along that all he needed was a few tugs and he was coming all over Louis’ hand. 

Harry slumped against him, forehead on Louis’ shoulder as they both panted hard, coming down from their highs.

“We should hurry up before Nick comes knocking and yelling at us to get out,” Louis whispered, pressing a kiss against his temple, wrapping his arms around Harry in a gentle hug. 

Harry nodded, unable to form words, feeling his throat raw and fucked. 

Five minutes later, Harry and Louis slipped out of the bathroom under Nick (the barista)’s disapproving stare. 

Harry giggled into Louis’ neck, grabbing his bag in the seat where he’d left it, walking out of the cafe hand in hand with slightly wet jeans and a bright red face. 

. . . 

Saturday afternoon came fast, creeping up on Harry like a looming shadow. 

“Bye, dad! See you Monday!” Harry waved at Des as the man drove out of the parking lot, looking every bit the perfect son sending his father away, completely unaware that he intended to invite his boyfriend over to take away his virginity and fuck him into his bed. 

Oh, God. There was _no way_ Harry could go through with it. He’d stayed up all night tossing and turning, scrolling through PornHub and watching “first time” videos until he wasn’t able to look any longer, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew Louis had experience, an ex-boyfriend of some sort. Though Harry wasn’t jealous, instead grateful at least one of them knew what they were doing. _What they were doing_. 

“Oh, God.” Harry hyperventilated, waiting until the car was completely gone from sight before clumsily running back up the stairs into his apartment, urgently texting Zayn and knowing Louis would get here in half an hour. He had cleaned his room the night before, taking down some of his creepier Niall Horan posters (essentially the ones of him half-naked or in ambiguous positions), making his walls look oddly bare and foreign, though Harry hadn’t cared all that much. He definitely didn’t want poster Niall Horan watching him the whole time. He’d even changed his bedding from generic white sheets to his favorite silk pastel pink ones, knowing they’d probably get them messy but still deciding to go through with it. 

He was nervously pacing his room again, chewing on his fingernails and repeatedly checking the time on his phone. He could already see the trail of his feet begin indenting on the carpet, his sock clad feet dug into the fluffy material. 

_Good luck! Wear a condom!_ Came Zayn’s very unhelpful text, making Harry huff and throw his phone on his bed. Neither he nor Louis had talked about what they intended to do today, but it lingered in the air and in the way they kissed, making promises to see each other the next day. 

And now it was the next day. He’d already taken a shower, putting on the cute silk briefs he’d ordered online (because he was too embarrassed to buy them in person) under his sweatpants and a slightly tight, form fitting band shirt he knew accentuated his waist nicely. He fixed his hair and put on his favorite lipstick, feeling clean and pretty as he anxiously waited for news from Louis. 

_I’m outside, Curly_. 

Harry’s heart stilled before tenfolding in intensity, nervous sweat appearing along his forehead. He was clumsy on his way towards the front door, accidentally bumping his leg on the corner of the coffee table, making him hiss in pain, so by the time he opened the door his eyes were red and watery. 

“What’s wrong?” Louis immediately asked, smile slipping from his face as he stepped forward to grab Harry’s arm. 

“I hit myself on the table,” Harry grumbled, rubbing his leg and pouting, face turning red in embarrassment. He was already off to a great start (note the sarcasm). 

“Oh baby,” Louis said, fighting back a grin and a laugh, stepping in past the door per Harry’s invitation. “You look pretty. Expecting someone?”

“Yeah,” Harry rolled his eyes, closing the door away from the prying eyes of Harry’s nosy neighbors. “My boyfriend’s coming over.”

Louis hummed, smirking mischievously and pressing himself flush against Harry, chest to chest and nose to nose, “Lucky guy.”

Harry bit his lip, eyeing Louis and feeling the familiar warmth at the pit of his gut. They were still in the entrance, right in front of the door and the living room, where Harry felt open and exposed, and yet Harry wanted nothing more than to suck Louis off right then and there. 

With a shuddering breath, Harry pulled away, reaching down and grabbing Louis' hand, leading him along down to his room. 

“Well this is the living room,” Harry said, beginning his short tour of their small apartment. He’d moved in with his dad last summer after Des and Anne’s divorce (a messy ordeal he’d rather not talk about). “That’s the kitchen, that’s the bathroom, that’s my dad’s room, and this… is mine,” he said, dragging Louis into his “man cave” as his sister, Gemma, called it. It really was anything _but_ a man cave. It was filled with colorful pastels and posters and pictures, his bookshelf full of romance novels, and his desk stacked with cute pens he’d found at a Japanese store. 

Louis grinned, looking around the place until his eyes settled on Harry again, endearment pooling in his eyes, soft and sweet. 

“Pretty,” he said, crystal blue eyes curving playfully. Harry balked, face turning red in embarrassment and looking away. “Why are you being so shy, huh?” Louis laughed, sauntering closer to him, “I was talking about that Niall Horan poster of yours. Pretty guy.”

Harry’s face only turned an even unhealthier shade of red at that, instantly hiding his face behind his hands in embarrassment. “Oh God,” he muttered, “I was hoping to hide my obsession just a bit longer.”

Louis laughed, walking past Harry to inspect the smiling blonde boy on his wall, “It’s so teenage of you,” Louis hummed, “I’m kind of jealous.”

“You should be,” Harry nodded seriously, fighting back a giggle, “I’ll leave you for him any day.”

Louis instantly whirled around to face Harry, frowning, “No, you can’t say that.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrows raised, surprised by the seriousness in Louis' expression, “You know I’ll probably never meet him, right?”

“Nonsense,” Louis scoffed, stepping towards Harry, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed. “You’ll be famous one day and run into him at the Grammys, and then what? You’re just going to leave me?”

Harry blinked, a slow smile spreading across his lips as Louis stepped in between his legs, spreading Harry’s thighs to make room for him. “What makes you think you’ll be around by then?” He asked playfully, licking his lips and looking up at Louis, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

“Of course I will,” Louis replied, a ‘duh’ tone in his voice, making Harry chuckle as he began pressing butterfly kisses all along his jaw and cheeks and nose, “You can’t get rid of me. I’m stuck to you. Like glue.” To accentuate his point, he plastered himself against Harry, holding him obnoxiously tight. 

“I guess I am, huh,” Harry sighed, fake disappointment in his voice, muffled by how tight he was being held, “Niall really missed out, then.”

“I guess so,” Louis nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s pouting lips before pulling away from him, putting distance between them as Louis sat on Harry’s desk chair. “Now, Harold, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow, still seated politely on the bed, fighting back a laugh. “And what is that?”

“You lied,” Louis said, deadpan.

“About?” 

“You said before that you went to sleep every night staring at the picture of me you taped next to your bed,” he huffed, lips quivering with the urge to grin, “I don’t see any picture.”

That’s when Harry laughed, standing up to stalk towards Louis, who leaned back into the chair, watching Harry in anticipation. “I’m a liar?” He gasped, moving to straddle Louis into the chair, settling onto his lap. Louis’ hands immediately fell on his hips, helping steady him. “Really?” Harry placed a kiss below Louis’ ear, mouthing across his jaw until he was hovering over his lips, though he didn’t inch forward to kiss him when Louis clutched him by the hair, pulling him away slightly, a grin on his lips showing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. 

“You know, my mom keeps asking me why I come back home every day covered in lipstick,” Louis whispered against his mouth, biting at his lower lip and making Harry shudder, “But I like it. Those pretty little lips of yours follow me home.” Harry whimpered at the words, Louis’ tongue sucking on his and hands sliding under his shirt, warm hands sliding up his back and exposing him to the cold air. “You look so pretty in red.” 

“So do you,” Harry said, breaking away to look down at him, seeing the beginning of red stains on his lips and chin. He knew by the end of the day Louis was going to need a thorough scrubbing to get rid of it. Harry grinned at that thought, feeling irrationally like he was marking him as his. 

“Yeah? You like me looking all messy?” Louis asked, pulling Harry up higher in his lap, roughly tearing his shirt away to trail down his neck and collarbone, mouthing hard, likely leaving light bruises in his wake. 

“Not even going to take me out to dinner first before you rip my shirt off?” Harry tutted, mewling when Louis licked up his throat, rough and wet against his sensitive skin. 

“Nope,” Louis chuckled, popping the ‘p’, complying with Harry as he tugged his shirt off of him, kissing him hard and open mouthed, sloppy and wet, drool dribbling from the corner of their lips. It was always messy with them. Harry doesn’t entirely know how it always happens. And then, in the heat of the moment, Louis’ hands were down his pants. It was all happening so fast, moving fervently as if they were in a rush to be somewhere. Go somewhere. Do something. _Do._ Fuck, Harry was consumed by sudden, abrupt and all consuming nerves.

Without any hint or warning, Harry pulled away, startling Louis into letting go of him, nearly sending Harry tumbling to the floor if Louis hadn’t quickly reached out and grasped his arm, steadying him as he scrambled to stand up and put distance between the two.

“Haz?” Louis blinked, eyes submerged in confusion despite the blush spread across his tanned skin, shirtless and pretty and perfect. “What is it?” He asked, looking so concerned it had Harry reeling with guilt. “And don’t say it’s nothing, Harry. You’ve been acting weird all week,” he said, stopping Harry before he had a chance to speak, knowing full well what Harry had been planning on saying. 

Harry sighed, avoiding looking at Louis as he sunk into the carpet and wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to make himself as small as possible, face burning bright red, nearly matching with his lipstick. “‘M scared,” he mumbled, avoiding the sudden urge to cry. 

“What was that?” Louis asked softly, standing up from the chair and going to sit beside Harry on the floor, guiding his chin to look up into Louis’ eyes.

“I’m scared,” he whispered again, dazed and ashamed of the words coming out of his own mouth, “It’s my first time.”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis cooed, cupping his face and pecking his lips, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, baby. We can go at your pace, whatever that is.” 

“No, that’s not it,” Harry shook his head, shuffling closer to Louis and wrapping his arms around him, mumbling into his shoulder, “Wanna be good for you.”

“You’re always good from me, love,” Louis replied, voice low and mellow, soothing Harry the same way his hands rubbing up and down his back did. 

Harry tentatively looked up, “Yeah? Always?” Louis’ eyebrows immediately rose, noticing the sudden shift in mood, warily watching Harry perk up and lean closer into him, allowing Harry to push him down into the fluffy carpet, climbing on top of him. “Even when I’m being naughty?” He whispered hotly into Louis’ ear, unsure what demon possessed him with such abrupt confidence. But all Harry knew at that moment was that he wanted it. He wanted Louis. He was in love with him. _Fuck._

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis gasped, confused and aroused, unknowing what to do with his hands and this obscene Harry who was kissing down his throat, eventually crawling a hand up his back to tug on his hair, a motion Harry was in love with, hot and possessive and Louis seemed to always do it without thinking, as if his hand just naturally found itself there. As if it belonged there. “Naughty,” Louis muttered, flipping them both over, Harry’s back flat against the floor and Louis settled between his thighs, where Harry could feel their hardness pressing against each other. He loved it. 

“Louis,” Harry pressed his hand against Louis’s cheek, wrapping his legs around his hips and suggestively licking his lips, boring his eyes into that lovely blue pair. “I want you to fuck me.”

“What?”

“Make love to me,” Harry rephrased, eyes watering with embarrassment but filled with determination. Harry wasn’t thinking straight, blinded by the word _love love love_ flying through his head. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Louis said quietly, but his gaze was hard and resolute, meaning every single word that came out of his pretty mouth. And Harry was leaking into his underwear. 

“I want to,” Harry insisted, rubbing hands up and down Louis’ chest and abdomen, glazing over the familiar bulge in the slightly older boy’s pants. Harry shuddered thinking about it, the thought of having him in his mouth sending thrills down his body as he moaned obscenely, “I _want_ you. I’m sure, Lou.”

“Harry,” he whispers, completely still above Harry, making him groan in frustration. Harry regretted having freaked out earlier, knowing he’d likely be getting pounded into his mattress by now if he hadn’t.

“Louis,” he sighed, running hands through soft, shaggy hair. “I trust you, Lou. And we’re both here, home alone, with my bed and my room and I’m with the boy I’m in love with. It can’t get any more perfect than this.” 

Harry couldn’t even hear the words as they flew out of his own mouth, hardly noticing when Louis blinked at him, suddenly gone silent. 

“I love you too,” he blurted abruptly, catching Harry’s face with his hands before he was able to bury it into his shoulder, adoration lacing his eyes.

Harry’s breathing stilled, pounding heart stuttering happily at the words as warmth flooded him, making him feel as soft as a puddle under Louis. 

“So you deserve something better, baby. You should be taken out on a date somewhere in Paris, where you can wear your pretty lipstick and pretty shirts, looking at the skyline while being pounded into nice and slow and deep with a wedding ring around that pretty finger of yours.” 

Harry gasped and shuddered at the words Louis whispered into his ear, breathing hot and heavy. Harry could feel the mess he was making in his pants.

“Please,” he begged, rolling his hips up into him, wanting nothing more than to feel Louis flushed against him, stretching him wide open and withering. “Need you, want you. Please, Lou. Make love to me.”

“Haz.” His needy, sticky pleading seemed to have an effect on Louis, who finally caved to peck Harry’s lips, though was quick to pull away before Harry could get greedy. He felt soft and warm and loved all over. “You never have to beg me to make love to you. If you’re sure, then I’m more than willing to treat you right, baby,” he paused, looking seriously into Harry’s eyes, “But you can say stop at any time, okay?”

Harry smiled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He was nervous, feeling sweaty and jittery and trembly. But he trusted Louis, he felt safe with him. Felt good. “If I mess up, let me know.”

“You could never do anything wrong.” He kissed down Harry’s neck, licking and sucking, mumbling soft words into his skin as if he were trying to engrave it into him. “I love you. From the moment I saw you pull that door instead of push, I knew I would be in love with you. A pretty, silly boy. You’re adorable.”

He isn’t sure when both their pants were pulled off, but eventually, they both laid there, nearly naked and on top of each other in the middle of his carpet. Harry's wandering hand reached down to cup Louis through his boxers, tugging and stroking until he could feel the dampening patch growing under his palm.

“Off,” he ordered, breathing hard and aroused. He just wanted to _feel_ Louis. Every bit of him. 

“Yes, sir,” Louis was quick to comply, scrambling back just a bit to kick off the offending article, then proceeding to do the same with Harry’s, humming appreciatively when he got a better look at them. They were red with pink frills, clearly meant for girls but Harry had liked them anyway because they hugged him in all the right places. But they came off just the same, and Harry was only grateful Louis hadn’t insisted on looking at them longer (because he just might, judging from the look in his eyes). 

They kissed hard. Nothing about the kiss was slow or gentle, all the traces of shyness and hesitance gone, though Harry could tell Louis was being careful, making Harry all soft and needy by the time he pulled away, “Should we move this to the bed?” He whispered against his skin, “Don’t wanna ruin your carpet.”

Harry nodded frantically, as if Louis would stop doing whatever it was he was doing to him if he said no. (Which clearly, would never be the case. Louis looked just as willing to absolutely wreck Harry’s floor.) 

As soon as he settled on the bed, on top of his sheets, Harry realized how dark the room was getting, losing light as it darkened outside. He glanced at Louis, who was cursing and muttering under his breath, looking for something in his bag Harry hadn’t even noticed he’d brought. 

“Lou,” he called out softly, barely above a whisper that Louis probably wouldn’t have been able to hear if the room hadn’t been so quiet. He paused, setting down his bag slowly to look at Harry all sprawled out on his own bed and looking at Louis with round, sweet eyes.

“Yes, baby?” 

“Can you turn the light on?” He asked, embarrassed but unwilling to relent. “I want to be able to see you.”

Louis grinned, finally seeming to find what he was looking for before he sauntered over to the lamp beside Harry’s bed, lighting up the room with soft orange lighting that made Louis look tanner and his blue eyes look darker. He looked irresistible stalking closer to Harry.

Louis seemed to have the same thoughts about Harry. “Can’t believe how lucky I am,” he muttered, looming over Harry and boxing him between his arms, pecking chaste kisses everywhere he could, as if he were worshipping Harry’s skin. 

“Believe it,” Harry grinned mischievously, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders connecting their lips again. Harry could feel how swollen his lips were, the hint of lipstick on there likely gone completely from the state of Louis’s lips and jaw and neck. Harry tried his best not to giggle at that.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Louis growled (more like a deep rumble of his voice that had Harry feeling things). It was only then that Harry heard the cap of a bottle snapping and came to the sight of Louis lubing up his fingers, a playful smirk on his lips. Harry gulped, eyes narrowing down on those familiar fingers, looking wet and slick and Harry was nervous all over again. This was it. The main event. Though Harry wasn’t about to back out, he was desperate for it.

He reached out to bite Louis’ collarbone, letting little teeth marks mark the skin, “You look so messy, covered in lipstick.”

“Yeah?” Louis grinned, and Harry could feel the wet fingers trace up his inner thigh. “So do you. You look so obscene, babe. Like you’ve been fucked. Haven’t even started yet.”

Harry groaned, arching his back slightly when Louis gave his cock a few tugs, and the next thing he knew, warm fingers were pressed against his rim. 

“Don’t tense up, H. Relax for me, baby,” Louis whispered soothingly, fingers massaging the entrance to his ass until he felt Harry relax under him, licking down his throat and pushing until Harry was moaning and writhing under him. “Does it hurt?”

Harry shook his head. “Feels weird,” he muttered, only to have a moan cried out of him when Louis hit a spot deep within Harry. “Never mind, feels good.”

Louis chuckled, continuing to work his finger into that spot, eventually adding a second finger and a third, and by then Harry was practically sobbing. He’d never felt so much pleasurable stimulation before. He almost wished he had done this to himself before, just so he’d been prepared for how good it felt. His cock, leaking and throbbing against his own stomach, agreed with his sentiment.

“No more,” Harry gasped, whining when Louis stopped moving, looking up from where he was kissing the inside of his thighs, to look into his eyes, “Don’t want your fingers anymore.”

It seemed to take Louis a few seconds to register his demand, but when he did he was quick to pull away and grab something off to his side, the crinkling sound of a wrapper appearing alongside his pants and the sound of Harry’s neighbor next door’s blasting music. Fleetingly, Harry wondered if it was because they knew just how loud Harry and Louis could get. Though he didn’t have much time to wonder about it when Louis' face was in front of his, just as flushed and damp with sweat as Harry’s. 

“You ready?” He asked, a bit too loudly, startling Harry who had grown used to the whispers and mutters. 

“Yes, Lou,” Harry replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes over Louis’ constant worry (though he loved it, honestly), “I’ve been ready.”

“So impatient,” Louis tutted, and Harry gasped when he felt something hard pressing against his rim, hot and heavy, a completely new feeling compared to Louis’ fingers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“Doesn’t,” Harry promised, gasping and mewling, spurred on by Louis’s own panting in his ear. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis groaned, biting his earlobe and tugging, slowly thrusting in and out of him, pushing deeper and deeper each time. “You’re so tight.”

“Pervert,” Harry shuddered, overwhelmed by the contrasting heat and burning spreading from his ass and Louis mouthing at his neck. It was a lot, and yet not enough. “Faster, Lou.”

And he did. Moving harder and thrusting deeper, until Louis bottomed out inside of him. Neither of them knew what they were saying, Louis muttering dirty words into Harry’s ear, who could only think to cry out “harder” and “faster” amidst it all. He knew they were being loud. Or, at least, Harry was being loud and Louis did absolutely nothing to quiet him, repeatedly pounding the spot within Harry that had him sobbing, biting Louis’ shoulder and nails scraping up his back as Louis brought a hand down to tug on his throbbing hard cock. 

“God, Lou, I- Louis!” Harry screamed, coming hard and abruptly into Louis’s hand, who stilled at the sudden tightness and came as well, spilling into the condom and collapsing beside him, gently pulling out. 

It took a few long minutes for their hearts and breathing to settle, Louis wrapping his arms around Harry’s sweaty body into a tight hug, where he could hear their heartbeats synchronizing together. 

“Did you mean it?” Harry whispered eventually, nuzzled into his neck. 

“Mean what?” Louis drew little circles on his back, lips pressed to the top of Harry's head.

“That you love me,” he muttered.

“Of course I meant it,” Louis scoffed, bringing Harry’s chin up to look into his eyes, pecking his swollen lips. “Love you and everything about you.”

“Even when I can’t open doors?”

Louis laughed, “ _Especially_ when you can’t open doors.” 

“Oh God,” Harry snickered, “This was a mistake.”

“Nope, no takebacks,” Louis dug his nose into Harry’s dimple, “You’re stuck with me. You love me, I was your first kiss.”

“Unfortunately,” Harry sighed, playfully rolling his eyes, “And first boyfriend, first love, first time…”

“And I’ll be your first fiance and first husband- not that you’ll have a second- and first co-parent, and-“ 

Harry laughed, a loud bark of a sound that stopped Louis, who was sporting a matching smile, “You have it all planned out, huh?”

“Of course,” Louis nodded, hugging Harry closer to himself, “I’m going to be your last first everything.”

The warmth spreading over his chest was overwhelming, feeling happy and loved all over. 

. . .

. ** _Epilogue_**.

Harry was freaking out. Like, totally completely freaking out. 

There he was. Niall _freaking_ Horan. If Harry had been told three years ago that auditioning for the X-Factor would have him sitting next to Niall Horan at the American Music Awards years later, Harry would call bullshit. But here he was, talking to Niall Horan at the American Music Awards. 

“Hey, Harry,” Niall whispered into his ear, dragging Harry’s mind over to look at the man, in all his blonde hair, blue-eyed glory. 

“Yeah?” He whispered back, heart thumping in his chest. 

“Why does your fiancé keep glaring at me?” He asked, eyes flickering back and forth between Harry and the person beside him. Confused, Harry turned to find Louis, eyes narrowed down on Niall, looking like he was seconds away from challenging him to a fight. 

He bit back a laugh. “He’s just shy,” he whispered back, though Niall looked like he didn’t believe a single word out of his mouth, suspiciously glancing at Louis before turning around, focusing back on his drink and his own date. 

Harry, however, turned around to look at Louis, who was still glaring daggers at Niall.

“Will you stop!” He hissed, slapping Louis’ thigh, successfully dragging his eyes back to Harry. 

“What!” Louis hissed back, looking offended and disgruntled, “That’s the man you said you’d leave me for!”

Harry smiled, biting his bottom lip in vain attempts to stop himself from laughing, “Oh God, Lou,” he whispered, reaching out to intertwine their fingers together, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” Louis insisted, angrily sipping his drink with his other hand, “Look at that cocky bastard.”

“Well, stop it,” he rolled his eyes, smirking when Louis' fingers started toying with the engagement ring on Harry’s finger. 

“I can see it in his eyes,” Louis continued, back to glaring at Niall, who looked both scared and uncomfortable. 

“Lou, look at me,” Harry said, leaning close to him and pecking his cheek, “I love you and only you… Even if thirteen-year-old me would absolutely be offering his hand in marriage right now.”

Louis sneered, “That fucker.”

_THE END._

  
  



End file.
